


Demon Dreams

by junko



Series: 'Tails' of Zabimaru [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji has a secret.  Dreams of Zabimaru drove him to get tattoos.  Unfortunately, having serious ink could get him expelled from Academy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note that I forgot to add earlier. The Bleach Wiki implies that Renji's tattoos started at Academy and grew during his tenure at the Eleventh. Clearly, that's true of the ones we can see (notably on his forehead and neck), but there's absolutely no reason not to believe that he had any number of them hidden. I actually got this idea while reading about the yakuza as research for this piece. It's actually quite common for certain yakuza soldiers to have the sort of tattoos that they can wear or not, depending on the situation, and how much skin they want to show.

Renji couldn’t quite believe what the headmaster just asked him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Take your clothes off.”

Renji glanced around the cramped office again. The headmaster sat behind his cluttered desk, while the secretary stood near the door, as though blocking the exit. An armed shinigami leaned against a bookcase, his arms crossed in front of his chest casually threatening. “Uh,” Renji said, “Can I ask why?”

“We need to see if you have any tattoos.”

Ironically, he’d just gotten fresh ink before he and Rukia left Inuzuri. The dreams of the demon had him scribbling strange shapes on to any scrap he could find. Compelled by some obsession he could hardly explain, he’d gone against his principles and taken a job with the local bosses in order to pay a tattoo artist to do his arms and thighs.

“Is it against the rules?” he asked.

The headmaster frowned down at the mess of papers on his desk. “No,” he said finally, almost reluctantly. “Not per se. Certain types, however, are.”

Renji frowned. The timing of this whole weird scene couldn’t be more obvious. He’d just started Zanjutsu. He was really good at it, too; kicking everyone’s ass. Renji’s innate skill had wounded a lot of pride. A petty thief from Inuzuri wasn’t supposed to be better at anything than some blueblood second cousin twice removed from a noble house.

Someone must have seen him changing in the locker room, someone who knew about the rules and who wanted him out. Of course, that could be anyone. Not just his fellow Zanjutsu students, either. There were certain kids, many of them aristocrats, who barked at him and Rukia when they walked down the hall. Though, more often than not, it was people from the _Rukongai_ that were meanest. It was as if they were happy to have finally found a target that was actually beneath them.

But, he took plenty of hassle from instructors, too.

That was the hardest. Renji had hoped, somehow, the instructors, at least, would be on his side, but he’d had teachers openly mock his Inuzuri pronunciations, made him take a place behind all the others, refused to let him show work on the board because it would mean making “gentlemen” stand up to let him pass.

Yet, despite all that, Renji loved Academy.

He’d managed to sniff out a small number of allies on the staff, teachers and librarians who were excited by his enthusiasm, willing to mentor him outside of regular classes. Turns out, this lowly street punk adored studying, practicing, and all the things collegiate life entailed. He felt like he’d finally found somewhere decent, a place he fit, and he’d walk through fire to stay here.

Besides, Zabimaru was waiting for him.

“What are you looking for exactly?” Renji asked, “Uh, I mean, because I do have-”

“Then we definitely need to see them.” The headmaster cut him off sharply. “If you continue to refuse to undress I’ll consider your resistance all the proof I need to expel you.”

_Fuck._

Renji took a deep breath, and started to pull out the fabric of the kosode from where it was tucked into the blue hakama, which was kind of difficult given that he refused to loosen the obi. But he gave it a hard tug, determined not to drop trou in front of the headmaster unless absolutely necessary. “I have no idea what you’re expecting, but there’s no way this is it. I don’t even know for sure what they mean.”

He finally struggled out of the long shirt and the blue undershirt, and the silk was now bundled in his hands awkwardly. Even though he’d been shirtless plenty of times before, it still felt weird to be half-naked in an office, especially with everyone peering at him like that, as if he were a specimen in a lab.

The headmaster was frowning at the stripes on his biceps as if trying to puzzle out something.

“What do you think?” the headmaster asked the shinigami. “Gang related?”

“What?” Renji couldn’t contain his outburst, “No! I worked really hard to stay out of that!”

“Did you?” asked the shinigami. Uncrossing his arms, he pointed at Renji’s tattoos, “That much ink isn’t cheap, especially for an Inuzuri punk like you. How did you pay for it?”

Renji’s mouth shut, but he glared angrily at the shinigami. There was no way he could talk about what he’d done in exchange. It was highly illegal, and he was pretty sure that admitting to criminal activity, even if it was in the past, _would_ get him kicked out.

“Did you have a patron perhaps? What do they call it? An _oyabun_?” the headmaster asked. “Someone you still owe allegiance to?”

 _Oyabun_. A mob boss.

They thought he was a gangster, a yakuza soldier.

Of course, he and Rukia had been in a gang. Even though they were small time, it was impossible to operate in Inuzuri without eventually making an arrangement with the mob. But they’d been so careful to never swear formal allegiance with any family, never take the initiation ceremony.

Yet.

Though it had been a clear line for him and Rukia, Renji doubted these men would be able to see it from their lofty heights of the Ivory Tower. Besides, in their eyes, he wore the proof of his sins on his body. Renji should have known that the mob business would stain him, but the dreams had driven him to a state of near insanity. He’d had to have the demon’s markings, it was like a compulsion. His skin didn’t feel right otherwise. If he hadn’t gotten the tattoos, he would have carved the designs onto himself with a knife… or his fingernail.

“Come on, kid,” said the shinigami. “Tell us who the tats are for.”

He probably shouldn’t have said anything at all, but what came out was, “Zabimaru.”

The headmaster looked smug. “Snake-Tail! A very sinister sounding code name, wouldn’t you say?”

The question seemed to be directed at the shinigami, but the man never had the chance to answer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” came a pleasant voice at the door. “But someone forgot to invite me to this little party. Ho, ho! It seems we’re already shedding clothes!”

Renji turned around to see the captain that had interceded at his entrance exam, the one that wore a fabulously pink kimono over his shoulders and two powerful demons at his side.

“Captain Kyōraku!” the headmaster sounded guilty. “Uh, right, come in. I was just about to explain to this student the rules regarding gang associations…”

The captain’s laughter was surprising, but clearly genuine. “Gang? You’ve never seen a real yakuza tattoo in your life, have you, Mr. Gengorō?”

The headmaster sputtered, “I, uh…”

Kyōraku tipped his hat to glance at the shinigami. “No, of course, not, that’s why you have a member of the Second here. Someone from the streetwise Stealth Squad, eh? Very good! Together, let’s dispel the headmaster’s worries, shall we?”

The shinigami looked sort of baffled to suddenly be called upon by the boisterous captain. “Uh… okay.”

Meanwhile, Renji felt just as confused at the shinigami looked. Why was this captain here all of a sudden? And why did he always seem to show up when Renji was in danger of getting thrown out of Academy?

“Excellent!” The captain continued happily, walking around the room as if giving an impromptu lecture, “No offense to Mr. Renji’s style choices, of course, but, if the boy was trying to show off his yakuza connections, where’s the color? Where’s the family crest or totem animal? I suppose by a stretch of the imagination, you might consider one of the bands as a sign of some criminal act completed, but, traditionally, those kinds of tallies are on the wrist. And they’re circles, not stripes. And, really, there should be more art, a lot more. Shoulders, back, a good long sleeve of intricate, colorful work…”

Renji was impressed. For a guy with questionable fashion choices, the captain clearly knew his yakuza tats. It did make Renji wonder, though, how a cheerful, goofy guy like this got his info. He didn’t seem like the sort to hang out in that kind of rough, criminal company.

The headmaster blinked as if suddenly waking up, “That’s irrelevant, sir, the kid already confessed to having an oyabun, some guy named Snake-Tail.”

“Oh, I see. But, Zabimaru is no mob boss. Zabimaru is the boy’s zanpaktō.” Kyōraku said patiently, as if explaining something to a child.

Renji started. It was surprising to hear Zabimaru’s name on someone else’s lips, especially since he hardly dared whisper it to himself.

“He doesn’t have a zanpaktō!” The headmaster insisted, slamming his meaty fists on his desk.

Kyōraku just smiled and shook his head sadly. “You know he does. And, it’s time for another confession, isn’t it, Mr. Gengorō? We’re only here because the boy is doing well. How many instructors vouched for him? Two? A half-dozen? More?”

Renji turned his attention to the headmaster. Was it true?

The headmaster was frowning, but his mouth hung open like he was caught in a lie. He snapped it shut with a shake of his head. “I refuse to take this ruffian off probation.”

Kyrōaku laughed, “And yet it seems you must. We agreed it would take only one.”

“But…” The headmaster stood up, shaking a finger at Renji’s naked upper torso, “Look at him! He doesn’t belong here!”

Kyrōaku tutted sadly, “Mr. Gengorō, please. I would so very much hate to have to bring up your sudden aversion to the Academy’s open door policy to Old Man Yama. Let’s forget you even uttered such blatant bigotry, shall we?”

The headmaster had the decency to blush a little, but he continued to protest, “But… but….”

“But nothing,” Kyōraku said firmly. “Continuing to block this young man’s progress will only cause you more heartache, my dear headmaster. I suspected your resistance to Mr. Renji’s education when we first spoke, so I’ve made provisions to guarantee graduation. I explained the situation to a number of captains, and found some already willing to accept him into their Divisions, if necessary.”

Renji could hardly believe his ears. Be accepted into the Thirteen Court guard as a first year? It was unheard of! Why was this captain so interested in him, that he would go to such lengths to make sure he stayed in school?

Meanwhile, the headmaster sank slowly back behind his desk. “Out played as usual,” he sighed. “Somehow you always seem one step ahead, Captain Kyōraku.”

Kyōraku laughed. “Come, Mr. Renji. It’s time for you to get dressed and get back to school.”

#

 

“All that difficult business made me thirsty. Can I buy you a drink?” Kyōraku asked as Renji tucked the last of the stubborn kosode back into his hakama.

Renji gave the captain a sidelong glance, as he straightened the folds of the uniform. What was this now? The captain had certainly swooped in to rescue him. It was also pretty clear from the conversation that Kyōraku had been his advocate in the past--possibly more, given that Renji knew he was the recipient of an anonymous scholarship. Was this where he paid what was owed?

“No need to look at me like that. I’m only talking about one drink,” Kyōraku laughed.

 _Well_ , Renji thought with a shrug, _if being this guy’s rent boy kept him at Academy it was a small price to pay_. “Sure.”

 

#

The captain took Renji to a red-lantern tavern just off campus that clearly catered to the student budget. It was the sort of place you could get cheap beer and salted edamame.

They sat at a table outside where they could toss the bean husks over the porch railing. Kyōraku surprised Renji by sitting cross-legged instead of seiza. He talked like a noble, but sat like a commoner. This captain was a bundle of contradictions.

Renji sipped his beer and stared at Kyōraku’s hairy chest. The guy had so much hair, he was almost furry. All that fuzz made the prospect of performing any kind of sexual act with the man that much more daunting.

“What are you thinking?” The captain asked with a smile. “You look very concerned about something, Mr. Renji.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’d rather just get this over with. You don’t have to get me drunk. Why don’t you just take me back to wherever and we can just do this.”

Kyōraku’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung open momentarily before he started to laugh. “Somehow you’ve gotten the wrong impression, my dear boy. It’s a lovely offer, but I’m afraid I must refuse your bold advances. I’m quite happy with what I have at home.”

“Oh.” _Okay, that was awkward._ Renji frowned into his beer. “I don’t get this. What do you want with me?”

“I want you to graduate so they’ll give you your Zabimaru.”

The captain sounded very sincere, and, frankly, Renji wanted that, too. “Yeah, but… why?”

“Because things have changed too much, become too regulated and rigid, and I’m afraid we’re losing something important.” Kyōraku said thoughtfully, as he sipped his beer. Taking one of the beans, he stripped the seeds out of the pod between his teeth. “I came in late. Did you say your tattoos were for your friend?”

“Yeah, but if I knew they were going to bring me this kind of trouble, I never would have—“ Renji stopped himself with a shake of his head. “No, that’s a lie. If I could have, I would have gotten a whole lot more.”

Kyōraku nodded encouragingly as he continued to drink his beer.

Renji continued, “A few months ago, I started dreaming about a demon. Not one like yours, a nue demon. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I started drawing these weird lines on everything. I think he must have them too.”

“And you’re trying to look like him?”

The question startled Renji. Of course, why wouldn’t he? But, suddenly he felt self-conscious about how confident he’d been that it was the right thing to do. He supposed it might be strange that he’d been trying to give himself demon marks. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Why, is that wrong?”

“No, not at all, just unusually perceptive... or perhaps intuitive. You see, Mr. Renji, there is a surprising number of shinigami who graduate from this very Academy who never realize that their zanpaktō are reflections of themselves. It never occurs to them that this thing, this weapon they fear is something they should embrace.”

 _Fear?_ “People fear their zanpaktō?”

“Many do, yes,” Kyōraku said with a sad shake of his head. “Some will tell you that’s a good thing, how it should be. They will explain that you can’t respect the zanpaktō’s power if you aren’t a little afraid of it. That’s a valid philosophy for many, I’m sure. Just not one I happen to agree with.”

Renji scratched the back of his neck, considering. This was a lot to take in.

“Also,” Kyōraku said around another swallow of beer. “They will also tell you that the only way to properly control a zanpaktō is to subdue it, force it to be subservient to your will. That, frankly, is bullshit.”

Renji had heard something about that. He’d been studying up on zanpaktō in his spare time, in the library. “There’s another way?”

“You and I both know there is, young man.” The usually laid back captain’s eyes grew suddenly intense. “What do you think the answer is?”

Renji didn’t even hesitate. “You can be friends.”

“Yes,” Kyōraku smiled. “Precisely. More beer?”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Demon Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/899578) by [Vorvayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorvayne/pseuds/Vorvayne)




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